Rainman was about to call to the other workers, but the woman began to speak in... Some language behind him. He turned around and eyed her curiously, unable to place it. The woman had climbed out of the crate now, and was facing the security officer. He responded in Sera'Shuun, a language that he recognized but still couldn't speak. The broadcast buzzed in his ear as the two exchanged words, but he ignored it. The security officers would have that under control. Hopefully.

"Uh, officer, do you think you could translate?" He asks. Something about the woman was off... And the officer did mention something about an AI... Could she be...? Does that happen? He shook his head.

John heard the young lady announce her self as "I am Pirate Lord Captain Princess Amel--" before correcting and introducing herself as 'Amy Julie'. Okay, Miss Pirate Princess might need a doctor... then a madman's ramblings came over the intercom. Hostages and killings seemed to be the order of the day and all for a paycheck it seemed. The Princess Pirate Warden for some reason told John that the hostage taker was in the botanical storage holding someone hostage.

This made John raise an eyebrow and ask "Miss Princess Warden. You are telling me this because...? Do you expect there to be a big mess that's going to need to be cleaned? Do you need a mop to whack in the face of danger? You want some deadly cleaning chemicals to splash on their face to turn them into a super villain? I'm a janitor. I don't deal with messes. I clean up after them. Be sure to let me know when it's over so I can do that." noticing the bartender and his question John answered "According to Miss Princess Warden it is. I'm off to do my job and prepare for the new one likely to come as a result of this. Have fun and stay safe I suppose" with that John headed back off to his cleaning supplies, putting on his gloves once again as he walked.

Kezal furrowed his brow. The lady's speech was stilted, grammatically wrong and sounded off. It reminded Kezal of an incident during his military days, when he was undergoing Factory AI Familiarization. It had been one of the toughest things he had ever had to do, since he was essentially given a blank-slate AI and expected to work with it over the course of a few weeks to see how he handled himself while working under the worst-case scenario of having to transport and work alongside an AI which had been returned to its factory state. It had taken Kezal an entire week to get it to speak Sera'Shuun with the correct syntax and inflection.

The way the lady spoke reminded him of that week, and that immediately spurred his suspicions. She looked like a human, but Kezal had heard of lifelike robots being manufactured for less-than-decent purposes. It did not take a stretch of the imagination to see how someone could come up with the bright idea of smuggling an AI somewhere by uploading it into one such robot. Of course, the reason why anyone would do that still eluded Kezal.

"I think she wants clothes," Kezal said, looking behind him at Rainman. "She also said something about helping, but I don't know with what. Her syntax is worse than a child's, that much I'm certain."

He looked back at the lady. It was quite rare for a human to bother learning Sera'Shuun; it was far easier for a Sera'Shuun to learn the common galactic tongue. "My name is Kezal Vazarik'Sikalaz." Kezal introduced himself, then repeated the whole thing in Sera'Shuun. There was always the outlandish and quite absurd notion that the lady had been raised by a Sera'Shuun family. Such incidences were rare, but it was a possibility. "Movarhuun mik siv Kezal Vazarik'Sikalaz." He pointed to Rainman. "He is Rainman." Again, he repeated the whole thing in his native tongue. "Hanik siv Rainman."

To be honest, Kezal was pretty certain he did not need to say it in two languages, but he did so for two reasons. One, it was for the benefit of Rainman, whom Kezal wanted to keep in the loop as he was the one who had access to all the documentation. Two, it felt good to Kezal to be able to speak his native language after such a long time of speaking the galactic common tongue. "What do you mean by help?" He asked. "Evakin, vasaar hik zum rikan zin?"

Kezal bit his lip. Regardless of her answer, he needed to bring her somewhere much more secure to formally continue the questioning process. "Rainman, see if you can find any clothes for her." He said to the dockworker, then turned back to the lady. "If you can stand and walk, I would like you to come with me to the security office so we can start questioning process." He sighed as he tried to find the easiest way to translate that long sentence. "Ki zum konik sarka'visk luz azkalin, Ist kasirik zum sek dzarkan hvat mik sek mizkalikshaanik, vi konik tevar riskani'ikanzik."

Subject: Raven, "Princess" Amelia.
Location: Hall, near bar
Amelia reaches for he still-not-present-because-she-couldn't-smuggle-in face-burner, with a shouting curse in her native tounge. She sighs. Maybe I'm drunk enough already, without alcohol. She looks toward her feet. Maybe I'm also not ready for this normal world, where I am no longer the captain, and I may be ignored or disrespected without the disrespector being beheaded in the vacuum of space... She looks toward the barman, who had entered the hall moments ago. In an attempt to sound less... arrogant... she speaks calmly, and as humbly as she can. "C-can you tell me the p-protocol for this situation?"
Of course, this comes with a stutter, as well as the all-important nervous vocal-shake. How alien such a manner of speaking can be, maybe she is coming down with some sort of flu? She clears her throat and tries again, this time trying to do as she previously was, just without the stupid verbal errors. "I need to know, am I supposed to check out the situation, or do I go back to the jail and wait for the bastard to show up?"
Of course, she is talking to the man who gives everyone their beer, not the guy who reads all the prison warden training manuals. But there still was a chance. If all else fails, she does still have a great amount of stolen money for emergencies stored somewhere on the ship, but she isn't quite ready to give all that up yet.

"Uhh..."

Mahone watched as the janitor walked off, running his hand thoughtfully through the mess of light brown hair atop his head. He supposed he couldn't blame the guy- it was a matter for station security, after all, not the custodial staff. Not everybody could be hero out of the old adventure stories. But here was a representative of station security, the young near-human warden, apparently with no clue as to what to do. John never made much of spacer during his time with the Fleet, but a decade of running a second-rate freighter with a lazy, seditious crew had taught him plenty about dealing with insubordinates. He heaved a sigh, and tried to remember what he could of the station's security protocol. Jack had only given it a cursory glance- he was a barman, after all, and dealing with dangerous criminals was not really part of his job description.

"Well, begorra, I don't rightly know what you or I ought to do." He began, thoughtfully, "but I reckon somebody's about to get tossed out an airlock over a paycheck. May as well see what we can do about it, huh? Maybe talk some sense into that hombre."

Worst to worst, they might make a fight of it between the two of them. He had no idea how experienced the young lady was with that sort of thing- she was fresh out of a criminology degree program, were he to guess- but he'd seen a barfight or two. He'd even participated in a few. He looked himself over briefly. He wasn't terribly handsome, but his body was strong and his shoulders wide. A look of determination crossed his face, and his blue eyes shined with what could have been bloodlust. Maybe he'd read too many stories growing up, but this seemed like just the time for an everyman to engage in some noble, selfless heroics. The barman began to remove his apron and folded it under his arm.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do this. Do you know where he is?"

Rainman nodded and turned back to the other workers. "Hey, any of those crates have clothes?" he asked, wandering off towards the boxes himself. A few of the workers scrambled around, checking crates. One of them scrounged up an engineering jumpsuit and tossed it to Rainman, who then passed it on to the security officer.

"You think she means the hostage situation?" He asked, shaking his head. God, things had gotten pretty chaotic pretty fast. Hopefully it'd calm down once that situation was dealt with. He looked down at his clipboard and frowned, flipping through the pages. "And... I'm not seeing anything about her in here. Is there anything in the crate?" He asked, tucking the clipboard back under his shoulder and approaching the open crate to peer inside.

Praefecta jumps up, probably too quickly, to take the jumpsuit. She hadn't intended for that coincidence, but of course the jump command was on her mind as she identified the jumpsuit. She dressed quickly, trying not to expose herself anymore than she already had. Mind you, it meant she had no concern with exposing herself at all, but she did it quickly nonetheless.

As soon as she had it on, she evaluated how the sentences were worded. She spoke in both the galactic tongue and Sera'Shuun, as the security officer had done. "Yes. I would like to help. Hostage situation." She emulates clearing her throat. "If you would like. I look like crew. Could use empathy. I haven't been paid yet, either. I wouldn't be lying. But no name. How do I add a name? I don't know my name."

"I don't think so," Kezal said as he peered into the crate, in response to Rainman's question. "Looks empty, but get your men to give it a once over. It could have hidden compartments. Wouldn't be the first time a smuggler tried that trick." Most of his time during his counter-piracy operations involved storming unregistered cargo freighters trying to run the Sera'Shuun blockades of known pirate-infested systems. The majority of those missions involved less running-and-gunning and more methodical destruction of cargo to ensure that there were no secret compartments housing contraband. Of course, there were the much more fun moments when the ship he was on would just decide to do away with the formalities and just destroy the cargo ship with heavy weapons.

He narrowed his eyes as he heard the lady speak. Her language skills had improved significantly, but that was what aroused his suspicions. Just moments before, her sentence structure was all over the place, and now she was speaking close to perfectly. She still spoke in fragments, but it was still a vast improvement over the way she had spoken just moments before. Kezal was half-tempted to use some AI override commands he had learned back in basic training, but decided against it. If the lady was indeed an AI, then she had probably self-developed past the point where override commands would work. There was also the chance that she was not an AI and just a confused person awoken from a long sleep.

"Protocol dictates that I have to bring you to the security office for questioning," He said and neglected to translate. The lady had spoken the galactic common tongue, yet another thing which confused Kezal. It would have been so much simpler if she just spoke that to begin with. "But you make sense. It would be better if we conclude this situation without bloodshed." He said, then arched a brow - or more accurately, the plate above one of his eyes - as he heard her say that she did not know her name. Kezal had heard of severe confusion in people awoken from a long cryosleep, but never before had he heard of someone forgetting their name. "You had better come up with a name for yourself. I'm rubbish with human names."

He then turned to Rainman. "Thanks for your help. Once you have everything here under control, see that you bring copies of the paperwork over to the security office. Doohan should be back by now." He looked around the cargo bay, then said in a loud voice, "Lockdown is lifted! Back to your posts!" With that done, he gestured for the lady to follow. "This way. If we're lucky, Tabatier and Hizaka'Tivakaz would have defused the situation by now."

"Yeah, yeah. Will do," Rainman said. He turned around and wandered back towards the Quartermaster's office while flipping through the clipboard. There ought to be papers somewhere, though it's quite possible that someone just sneaked her on without even bothering to try covering it up. He shrugged and pushed the door to the office open and entered. "Hey, boss. You got anymore paperwork? We, uh... We found a woman in one of the crates."

The Quartermaster gave Rainman an odd look then looked back to a paper on his desk. "You know, something did look off. Say, how many crates did you boys count up?" he asked, leaning back and setting his feet on the desk. Rainman consulted his own clipboard then looked back at the Quartermaster.

"Uh, exactly 84. Same as the papers." Rainman replied. The Quartermaster frowned and bit his lip. He stood up suddenly and walked past Rainman to peer outside, presumably to see the woman, than returned to his desk where he shifted papers around with an increasing frustrated look on his face.

"You might want to try counting again, Alex. I've got 83. Anything on the crate?" Rainman's eye twitched at the use of his real name but he just shook his head. "Does the name 'Samuel Thaddeus' mean anything to you?"

"Er, no?" Rainman looked up curiously at the quartermaster. The Quartermaster handed Rainman another paper and leaned back while Rainman looked over it, his expression looking increasingly confused.

"Who the hell would order a crate filled with just playing cards? It's like they weren't even trying. How'd we miss this? Gods, at this rate they'll fire me." the Quartermaster complained, spinning his chair around. Rainman said nothing and left the room, the order forms for hundreds of packs of playing cards in his hands.

Praefecta nodded as the heavily armored alien spoke to her. She didn't seem to be taken seriously, however, when she wanted to help. Then again, she had no idea how she'd help with such a situation; it wasn't really her area at all. She obviously wasn't that good at talking to people normally, much less when someone else's life may be on the line. But maybe she could convince him a paycheck was not as important as life? It was definitely something she believed, and she technically had neither, by some standards. Of course, it didn't matter at the moment whether she could help or not. She had been asked to follow the "guard" or whatever he was to his office.

She would have to make up a story. And a name. And make a convincing reason why she couldn't remember these things before. She had been asleep, and frozen, so at least there was that. But she didn't even have a signature. Nor had she ever written before. Illiteracy wasn't too uncommon of a problem on more "rural" planets, of course, so she could work with that. And if she had been raised a slave, she wouldn't have a name. She definitely believed she had done that so far, so it wasn't a stretch to use that as an excuse. "I don't know my name because I have no name." She whispered, in both languages still (as well as every word from here on). She also did her best to imitate a sudden headrush, which would be a likely event if she stood up so quickly. "My master sold me. Told me to do what I was asked." She whispered this, too, trying her best to sound like she was not only telling the truth, but trying to convince herself it was so. "Not human master like me. Alien." Also true; the one who had given her orders before her "awakening" was a race similar to that of the one she spoke to now. "Sold me to someone. Here? Where is here? Arrived at destination or is this a checkpoint?" She really had no idea how shipping worked. Again, it wasn't her area. But there had to be checkpoints so people would know how long their wait would be, and so ships could refuel, right? "Are you my new master?" These are the first words she spoke at a normal speaking volume, making sure the guard could hear her.

It had to be a better way to get by unnoticed than saying what she really was, and she couldn't risk accessing any data not stored in her personal files. It would have to do. That stuff happened, after all. "Or is my new master human?"

"Slave?" Kezal whispered that word to himself. That word tasted bitter in his mouth and the act of simply saying it made him feel uncomfortable. One of the core tenets of Sera'Shuun culture was that everyone, regardless of rank or position, was created equal and thus deserved equal rights. Slavery was thus quite an alien concept to the Kezal. While he had read about the ancient tribes practicing it, it had been centuries since the Sera'Shuun officially outlawed slavery and made it an offense punishable by dishonouring. Still, he supposed that it made sense for the lady to be a slave. That would explain her lack of name or improper syntax; not many slaves were expected to be spoken to or speak.

The fact that she knew the Sera'Shuun language, however, troubled Kezal. It was possible that her previous master was a Sera'Shuun, but then that would mean that he had managed to actually procure a slave without being caught. That was no easy feat, considering the Sera'Shuun enforced strict military patrols throughout its borders. Then again, it was highly possible her master lived outside of civilized space, in one of the plentiful lawless systems.

Kezal shook his head slightly. That was not his concern. At least not currently. Firstly, he had a hostage situation to defuse and the lady had generously offered her help. "I'm not your..." He paused, hesitating to spit that one word out. "Master, and neither is anyone on this station. I am Sera'Shuun. Honour and personal morals prevent me from taking a slave." He said and looked over his shoulder at her. "I promise you that I will spare no effort to find out who did this to you, but first we have a hostage situation to defuse." He cocked his head slightly to the left and extended a hand. He had seen her awkward and slow movements when she first stood up. "That is, if you are still up for it."

---

"Are you sure it's this way?" Arikaz asked, her voice laced with irritation and frustration. Her dark grey armour was much like Kezals, only it was a lot more form-fitting and lightweight; perfect for the clandestine missions she had to perform during her service. She followed close behind her partner - a human male easily a head shorter than her - as they rushed down a dimly-lit corridor. "Marcel Tabatier!" She said sharply when her partner failed to respond to her initial question. When he did not reply again, Arikaz decided to just give up and hope that he knew where they were going. Hostage situations were supposed to be solved quickly, but unfortunately, they had taken an unplanned break when Marcel decided that a shelf of botany equipment in disarray needed to be arranged properly.

She sighed. At least it was better than the alternative. She could be working with Kezal. The Enforcer and Intelligence Corps never seemed to get along and that rivalry had been carried over from their time in service.

They turned a corner and skidded to a halt as they unexpectedly came face to face with the hostage taker and his victim. "Put the damn axe down before you do something stupid!" Marcel shouted, drawing his custom-built and imported electroshock pistol.

"Just give him a shock and get this over with," Arikaz snapped. "We have better-"

"Ignore my partner, she's always a grouch." Marcel said to the hostage taker and flashed Arikaz a sideways grin. "Just put the axe down, let the man go and come quietly with us. No one needs to get hurt."